The businessman stretched
his long, tired form back into the cramped economy seat, incredibly glad to
be going home to Cleveland. It had been a long, tedious week of negotiations
with his clients, and they didn't seem any more inclined to purchase his software
now than he had before he had made the trip. It was a lousy deal being a salesman.
So many negotiations now took place with conference calls and emails that he
rarely got out of his office to actually make face to face contact with prospective
buyers. Most deals were struck with little glad-handing or wining and
dining, and although he liked getting out and meeting folks, he was secretly
pleased that he wasn't required to travel very often anymore, and this disappointing
week spent in daily meetings and stuck nightly in the confines of a no frills
hotel was grinding on him. He hadn't slept well all week, and he was looking
forward to getting home.

He glanced over to the
woman on his left, and she smiled at him. He would have spoken to her,
at least the minimal amount of polite chatty conversation, if she had made any
overtures to do so. But once the aircraft was in flight, she had pulled
out her laptop computer, and put a cord in it, and tucked ear buds into her
ears. He opened his paperback book, and pretty much prepared to forget
about her for the rest of the flight, except for the minor interruptions of
the beverage cart going by.

He'd found his bookmarked
place, and began reading. He was a chapter or so into the book when he
felt the woman next to him stirring, so he looked across, and saw her putting
a disc into the CD tray on her computer. He went back to his interrupted paragraph.
Moments later, it began.

First he had heard the
tinny playback of music reverberating just barely audible above the sound of
the plane's engines. He listened, concentrating on the familiar sound
of the tune. He couldn't quite discern what it was, and it was playing
much too low for him to make out more than a few notes. It was mildly irritating
him, but he ignored it, and went back to his book. Not long afterward, he heard
a softly keening voice begin singing, or droning, or whatever is was,
it was not pleasant. He looked at the woman, who was blithely singing
along, her eyes closed and her pretty face brightening with pleasure as she
sang.

"Good mornin', good
morn-in', we've talked the whole night through, good mornin' good mornin' to
you! ... Good mornin, good morn-in ...'"

It was going to be a
very long flight indeed.

After a short pow-wow
in the D'Amico's kitchen, Dave, Marcy and Nelson had come to the conclusion
that maybe the karaoke machine wasn't such a great idea after all, especially
with the news of the inclement weather that was now heading east, right
across the town of Stonecreek's path. The Weather Channel was on in the
living room and all three kept checking it as the day wore on. The clouds started
arriving around 4 PM, and were so dark and ominous that many golfers scurried
off the course without finishing their rounds. An hour later, the course
was deserted, and lightning began flashing, thunder rumbling, and Dave had a
smile so wide on his face that it extended way past the exaggeration of 'ear
to ear.' He was sitting out on the porch, watching the storm move in.

"Yes! Yes yes yes!"
he kept booming, right along with every rumble of thunder, egging the storm
on. BA-BOOM!! "Yes!! Yes! Yes!"

Sara, lounging in the
living room, watching the local updates on the television, rolled her eyes at
Marcy. "You're going to marry that idiot?" she asked drolly.

Marcy was slumped uncomfortably
on the couch, and she let out a long sigh. "I suppose I have to. I mean, well,
he is the father of this child." She rubbed her belly. "Unless
I could convince him that I had a tryst with the Exxon guy or something."

"Paul. Tell him it's
Paul's." said Sara, snarkily. A couch cushion came sailing her way, and
she deftly caught it, and laughed. She saw the yellow and orange on the weather
map on the screen, dotted with areas of red. "Wow, look at that. More
big storms, coming this way. Within the next few hours."

Marcy nodded, and scratched
an itchy knee. "I wonder how many will show up for this thing tonight?
I've already gotten at least ten phone calls, canceling. Seems they want
to hunker down in their basements or something." She snorted. "Sissies."

"That many, huh? How
many does that leave us?"

Marcy did some calculations
with her brain calculator, tapping her numbers onto her forehead. "Let's see,
oh, around twenty or thirty. Depending on how many drag people along that weren't
invited, or the people who don't bother to call because they think we're mind
readers, and can figure it out on our own that they're not gonna show. Hey,
look, there's Vivian!" Marcy had turned her eyes back to the TV, and noticed
her favorite weather person on the screen. "Vivian is so cool, don'tcha think?"

Sara looked too, and
openly admired the dark woman on the screen. "Yeah. Is it just me, or do they
always have her dressed in red?"

"Come to think of it,
she does wear a lot of red, doesn't she? Looks great on her. Me, I look
like a huge tomato."

"Even more so, now that
you're preggers, huh, Marse." Sara had decided hours ago that the best
way for her to get through this day, waiting for Chloe's arrival, would be to
put on her happiest face, and pester the hell out of Marcy all day. So far,
it was working well, and Marcy , although cranky, was taking it all in stride.
Marcy knew Sara was anxious, so the last thing she wanted to do was upset her.
Sara had been mercilessly teasing her, mostly light and good-natured ribbing,
and Marcy could handle that just fine if it kept Sara's anxiety level down to
a low roar.

"Shaddap, you."
Marcy stretched, as a bright flash of lightning lit up the living room through
the opened drapes. She started her slow climb to a standing position, and finally
became upright, as Sara watched, smirking, from the recliner. "Wait until it's
your turn, smartass. Wait 'til you're with child. Let's see who's laughing,then!"
Marcy taunted.

BA-B00M!!

"Yes! Alright!" Dave's
cheering voice answered from his lookout on the porch.

Ignoring Dave's exhortations,
Sara responded adamantly to Marcy's insinuations. "Whoa! Not me,
not ever! I eat children for breakfast," Sara snickered. "And that one you have,
well, I won't even be around it until it's older and gets an allowance, so I
can borrow change from him for the pop machines. Before that, what good are
they? They don't know how to use a microwave, change an oil filter,
or tell a good Spielberg movie from a bad one. Send me your kid when she hits,
oh, 13 or so, and can hand me the right tools. Before then ... no way!"

"Uh huh." said Marcy,
not believing a word of it, except for the borrowing change part.

"Your turn. Your
biological clock has to go off some time, Sara. You'll wake up one morning,
and all you'll be able to think about is how badly you want a little bugger
with diaper rash and a runny nose to push a half a bagel into your VCR slot.
It's inevitable. So don't try and fool me. You'll be sending money away to sperm
banks, trying to get yourself knocked up by some giraffe of a guy so you can
give birth to an NBA or WNBA center. It'll happen, I'm psychic, I see all, know
all, tell all, and you, my dear sister in law, will be a mommy to something
scary before you're forty, I double G guarantee it."

Sara's mouth dropped
open, and she shook her head vehemently. "Nope, your crystal ball obviously
needs a tune up, Marse. Not a maternal bone in this here body." She patted her
flat stomach for extra emphasis.

Marcy made her way to
the archway leading into the kitchen. "Really? Never thought about it?"
she asked skeptically as she turned to face Sara again.

"Really, Marse."

Marcy really wanted
to win the little argument, but she didn't want to bring Chloe's name into it,
so she decided to just, for now, let the debate die. "OK. If you say
so."She winked at her, and then headed into the kitchen to check on
the dozen or so borrowed crockpots she had plugged into a very overworked surge
protector.

"I say so!" Sara yelled
confidently towards the kitchen. She turned her attention back to Vivian,
who was now talking about the weather headed their way. Sara's eyes widened
when the lady in red pointed to a long line of storms across the upper midwest,
from Chicago, across Indiana and into Ohio. Right where Sara figured Chloe's
flight path would be passing. Oh God.

FLASSSH!
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi CRRR----AACCK!...
KA-BOOM!!!

"Yes! Yesss! Yes!!!"
Sara heard from her seat as she flinched. Oh no.

Chloe still had her
eyes closed and was silently (she thought) singing along to her 'Now That's
A MUSICAL!' double CD when she felt the plane lurch and then seemingly
drop, then right itself. She blinked, and looked over at her fellow passenger,
who was hurriedly putting on his seatbelt. She did the same, groping for
and then fastening the belts. She saw the man nod at her, reassuringly, and
she nodded back, and closed her eyes again. She hated turbulence, there wasn't
a person alive that enjoyed it, and for once she felt like part of a large majority.
The plane dipped again, and her heartbeat drummed. She gripped the arms
of her seat again, and tried to concentrate on the music instead. The
plane mercifully stabilized, and soon, the man next to her was cringing again,
and not from the weather he saw outside the window. This time, Chloe was creaking
along with a young Judy Garland.

"Clang Clang Clang!
went the trolley, Ding! ding! ding! went the bell, Zing! zing! zing! went
my heart strings, from the moment I saw you I fell ...."

The wind gusts were
clocked at the National Weather Service weather station at the Peninsula in
Erie at topping off at just over 45 MPH during the course of the storm.
There was a tornado watch in effect until at least midnight, and at 7 o'clock,
when the party was supposed to begin, there were very few guests in the barn.
The building was old, but very strongly fortified, so Nelson had brought out
his weather radio so they could monitor the storm. Marcy did a head
count. Let's see, Doris, Dave, Jeanette, Stan, Heather, Justin One and Justin
Two, Paul, Mrs. Hoderman. Mrs. Hoderman? Why in heaven's name would
that old busybody want to come out in this storm? Uh, Ralph Henderson.
Mark Benson. Nelson. Not even a fourth of the invited list. And Chloe,
well, she's supposed to show up later. I hope she has enough sense to
stay in Cleveland over night if the weather there is as shitty as it is here.

Nelson had used an electric
golf cart to haul over all the warmed crock pots at once. The beer was
cold in its barrel, even though they had enough of it to quench the thirst of
a division of Marines. Nelson's boom box was plugged in, and muted, the rumbling
storm outside the barn's doors adding extra emphasis to the bass line. There
were lawn chairs, lounges and kitchen chairs strung out all over the barn, and
most of the guests were pleasantly chatting, nibbling on a wide assortment of
meatballs, and everyone took the time to compliment Marcy on her cooking prowess.
Marcy gratefully accepted their thanks, and made sure that each and every one
of them knew that they would not be going home empty handed because she was
damned if she was going to pack all this stuff up again to stow away. No thank
you.

Sara leaned near the
slightly opened barn door, intently watching the storm raging outside. Leaves
and some small limbs were skittering by, the rain was coming down nearly sideways
from the gusting winds. Her thoughts turned to Chloe, and she wished she had
taken the time to try and figure out which flight Chloe would be returning on
to Cleveland. As she stared outside, a small cup of beer in her hands,
she felt a chill run through her, although the barn was sauna hot with humidity.
The rain was coming down, the wind was blowing, it hadn't cooled the air a bit,
actually it made it more uncomfortable and oppressive.

She frowned, and then
determined that she should stop worrying, and turn her attention to where it
needed to be, on her nephew. This was his party, and he still wasn't talking
to her. She looked around, and saw him chatting with Jeanette and the rest of
his male friends over by the John Deere. It was the perfect situation to approach
him, because she figured that he was too well mannered to ignore her in front
of his friends. She had a plan, a mission, and she needed to complete it. Perhaps
it was part guilt that drove her to do this, but all in all, she was doing it
out of love. She walked across the barn floor, past Paul who was sitting
in between Doris and his mother, and Sara winked at him as she passed, and he
gave her a desperate 'Help me!' look, which she shrugged off with a sympathetic
and amused grin.

Nelson's back was to
her, and Jeanette was holding his hand on the other side, so she pulled up next
to him, and stood quietly until he noticed her presence.

He looked over, surprised
to see her standing there.

"Hi," she said.

He looked away..

She softly elbowed him.
"Hey."

His face twisted, and
he tried to concentrate on what Justin I was mouthing off about.

Another elbow. "Yo."

He sighed, and held
his ground, staring straight ahead.

She leaned in closer,
talking directly into his ear, so only he could hear. "Listen, I know you're
still mad at me. It's OK. I understand. I was a bitch, you didn't deserve it.
I'm sorry. I wish you'd talk to me again. I miss talking to you."

His stiff posture eased
a little, but he still couldn't bring himself to look at her.

She leaned in again.
"I've been thinking," she kept her voice low, "and I've decided that I need
to give you a good-bye present. It's not a bribe, it's something I think you'll
really like, and something I really want you to have." Her voice choked a little.
"It's just a way for me to let you know that I'm thinking about you, and missing
the hell out of you."

Nelson felt his aunt's
hand slip something into his hand. He fingered them, and his eyebrows rose.
He recognized the feel of the hard metal surfaces. He gazed down into his hand,
and his guess had been right. The Comet's keys.

His eyes widened, he
abruptly dropped Jeanette's hand, and turned to face his aunt, who was smiling
cautiously at him.

He sputtered, holding
out the keys to her. She shook her head. "Aunt Sara, you can't! I mean, NO,
no way, that car is your baby. No way!"

She defiantly stuck
her hands in her shorts pockets. "Not anymore. My baby is going to California
with you."

He was still holding
the keys out to her. "You can't. You said you might have to sell
it. You need it. C'mon, take these back." He said, rather desperately.
"You don't have to do this."

Sara cleared her throat,
and gave him a very affectionate smile. "I know I don't have to, Nels, I want
to. I don't need the Comet. I have the van now," and she rolled
her eyes and laughed lightly, "and I can always borrow Dave's Explorer, or since
you really won't need your pick-up truck at USC, maybe we can call it an even
trade. Besides, the Comet will be happier in California. No snow, no rust
from salt."

Nelson's hand dropped,
and he looked at her, tears beginning around the corner of his deep blue eyes.
"But you were going to sell her, to get the house ..."

"Doesn't look like I
can get that house on my own, Comet or no Comet. It wouldn't make
that much of a difference. I want you to have her. I know
you'll take good care of her." She looked down, afraid that he was going
to burst into tears, and she was already feeling uncharacteristically sentimental.
They both tried to get control of themselves by looking everywhere but at each
other.

Nelson took one more
look at her, intending to shove the keys into her pockets, and then he realized
she was dead set serious, and recognized that she was simply giving him a little
piece of her heart to take with him.

Sara felt strong
arms pick her up, and squeeze her, twirling her around. She gasped and grinned
while Nelson was placing a very wet smooch on her cheek. He grinned, touching
his forehead against hers, still holding her in the air.

"Put me down!" she said,
her rather low voice bordering on squeaking.

He squeezed her again,
and although his face was lit with love, a tear had managed to escape, and was
rolling down his ruddy cheek. He set her lightly on the barn floor, hugged her
again, and then pulled away, wiping at his cheek. She grinned at him,
and he grinned back, near mirror images of blue eyes, dark hair, angled cheekbones
and white teeth. He sniffed, and that triggered an echoing sniffle from her.

"Hey Nels! What's
going on over there? " Dave shouted over the storm outside, the boombox's music,
and the conversation in the barn.

Nelson was pathetically
red eyed, and he knew it. "Later, Pop!" He had to get a grip, but not
before he leaned into his aunt again, whispering very softly and with as much
sincerity he could muster. "Thank you."

Sara blushed. "No, thank
you, Nelson, for being my best friend." She gripped his arm, and her
eyes watered with tears that threatened to spill over.

Nelson nodded, and stuck
the keys into his jeans pocket, and made a quick escape to go gather himself
in the lavatory of the barn. As he was entering, he turned and caught sight
of his aunt blowing her nose into a bandana, and scuffing her foot along the
barn floor, trying hard to compose herself. She looked up, after sniffing
again, and caught his eye. One more look of love passed between them before
he closed the door behind him.

"Hodel oh Hodel have
I got a match for you! He's handsome he's young -- alright he's 62!
but he's a nice man a good catch, true? True! I promise you'll be happy, and
even if you're not, there's more to life than that -- don't ask me what!"

The businessman sighed,
grateful to have a reason to interrupt the the trilling of the irritating songbird
perched next to him. The captain was on the plane's intercom, about to make
an announcement. He tapped the warbling woman on the arm, and her eyes
opened, and he motioned to her to remove the ear buds. She did, and immediately
paid attention to the voice traveling throughout the cabin.

"Sorry, folks.
I've talked to the terminal in Cleveland, and although we'll be able to land,
it's going to be quite a wait. There's a mighty storm front down there,
and planes are stacking up. Looks like we're going to have to circle until
it's our turn. But the good news is that there's a little break in this
mess, so landing, when we do get our turn, should be uneventful. For those
of you hoping to get your connections elsewhere, well, we'll have representatives
at the gates to help you out. Meanwhile, sit back and try and relax. Thank you
for flying ...."

Chloe tuned him out.
Damn. Damn. Damn. It was just 7 o'clock now, and there was no telling when they'd
finally land. She'd heard stories of grumpy fliers saying that they'd been stuck
circling a city for over an hour. "This sucks." she griped.

The man next to her
nodded. "Sure does."

She grumbled a little
more, then stuck the ear buds back into her ears again, and it wasn't very long
at all until she had her eyes closed and began softly hitting every sour note
in her limited vocal range. "Shall ... we ... dance? On a bright cloud of music
shall we fly? Shall we dance? Shall we then say Goodnight and mean Goodbye?
Or perchance, When the last little star has left the sky, Shall we still
be together ..."

The business man groaned.
No, he thought, THIS sucks.

Sara was sitting behind
the counter, listening to the rain falling on the barn's roof and still nursing
her beer when she saw a man approach her. He looked vaguely familiar, but she
couldn't immediately place his face. That face broke into a friendly smile.

"Sara D'Amico?"
She nodded, and he continued. " I'm Jerry Hellman, Jason's dad. I just
stopped to drop him off here at the party, we've been in Erie all day, trying
to get Jase signed up for all his classes." She smiled benignly at him,
and put out her hand for him to shake. He did, and then smiled again. "I wanted
to say hello to you for a couple of reasons, first, for finding a way for my
gorilla of a son look almost graceful in 'Oklahoma' last spring." He noted
Sara's delighted smile, and stopped her before she could say anything modest
in reply. "No, really. Just take the compliment, and go with it.
You and Ms. Donahue were a godsend for him. He came out of his shell,
he never even talked about going to college before, and now, well, he's so excited
it's hard to keep his feet on the ground."

Sara finally got her
wits about her. "Where's he going?"

Jerry smiled. "Well,
not very far away. We can't get rid of him that easily. Glenhurst." He
noticed her smile fade, and her eyes dart away. He wasn't sure what he'd said
wrong for her to lose that smile, so he switched gears. "And, well, I thought
I'd tell you a bit of good news while I was here, dropping Jase off." Her attention
returned to him, but her smile didn't rematerialize. He took a deep breath.
"I'm also the manager of Stonecreek Savings and Loan, and I had the opportunity
to, uh, reevaluate your loan application the other day. I was going to get back
to you sooner, but I had all of this college business to take care of with Jason.
Last minute stuff. We're going on vacation over Labor Day, so we had to
get it all done now ..." He trailed off, because her intense blue eyes
were boring into him. "Well, the good news is that your loan application, for
the mortgage, has been approved. Congratulations, Ms. D'Amico."
He smiled a pointed smile at her, expecting her to jump and down at his good
news.

Instead, she stared.
"What?"

He regrouped and repeated,
"Your mortgage application has been approved. You can come in on Monday, and
sign the papers, and then contact the realtor ... and, congratulations, looks
like you're going to be a homeowner." He saw a glimpse of comprehension come
into her eyes, and once again expected a happy outburst. Didn't come.

"How?" Sara squinted
at him suspiciously.

He squirmed under her
demanding gaze. "Uh, well, actually, I thought she'd have told you by now, but
maybe she hasn't ..."

Sara heard the word,
'she', "She, as in Chriss Dean, that little pissant you have working
for you?" Sara was being bad mannered, but she hated surprises, even if
it was good news.

A slow smile curled
up Jerry's lips on one side. "Yeah, she's a pistol, isn't she? Perfect
tough loan officer material. But, no, not her, I meant," and he turned to point
to a small group sitting near a golf cart. "Her. Doris Raeburn."

Sara shook her head,
knowing that Doris knew just about everything that happened in this town, sometimes
before it even happened. "Doris?" She blinked. "What about Doris?"

"Well, you'd find out
about it anyway, it's on the papers we drew up, but she volunteered to cosign
the loan for you, and well, with her kind of influence and clout, the loan sailed
right through..." He turned to face Sara again, startled to find she was no
longer behind the counter. He looked around, then noticed that Sara had made
it over to Doris faster than a bolt of lightning. He chuckled to himself,
took a deep breath of humid, but meatball infused air, and happily made his
way over to the food table.

Chloe was doing her
best impression of OJ Simpson. Not the OJ Simpson who rode in white Broncos
and was a monumental embarrassment to the justice system, no, the other OJ Simpson,
who appeared in bad movies, (except for the Naked Gun series) and made commercials.
The OJ that Chloe was emulating was the one in the car rental commercial, where
he was making a mad dash through an airport terminal, trying to get to where
ever he was heading in a frenzied hurry. She ducked around turnstiles,
leapt over briefcases in her way, and spurted down to the baggage claim area
a good ten minutes before her lone bag even made it there. She had dumped
a handful of coins into a rack that dispensed carts, and waited impatiently
for her bag to come out of the chute. It finally showed, and she elbowed
a few people quite brusquely, apologizing but grabbing for her suitcase. She
heaved it up, then thunked it down on the cart, placing her laptop case and
carry-on satchel on it. She checked her watch. It was nearly 10 PM, and she
began pulling the cart behind her, picking up speed as she went. She was
late. Late for an important date.

"Doris?" Sara
towered over the seated woman. "I need to have a word with you." Sara's
voice sounded stern, but then she remembered her manners. "Please."

Doris Raeburn had noticed
Jerry having a conversation with Sara over by the counter, and she had figured
out what was happening. She sighed, and looked up at Sara. "I suppose you want
me to get out of this comfortable chair and move to someplace more private?"
She replied cagily, noting how unwavering Sara's stare at her was.

"If you wouldn't mind."
Sara's tone was low and her words clipped.

The school principal
handed Sara her beverage and used her umbrella to help push up out of her seat.
They moved, together, to an unoccupied part of the barn, away from the music
and other ears, and they settled into chairs. Sara silently handed Doris her
drink again. "Doris ..."

Doris smiled at her,
and her words poured forth like a flash flood. "Well, I suppose Jerry told you
the news. The good news. Well, I heard you were in a bind, trying
to get the mortgage to Marcy's house. So I said to myself, where's the harm
in helping Sara out? I know I have nothing to worry about, I've got so
much money stashed away from my investments and pension and the like, and all
my kids are pretty well off on their own, and don't need to buy a third or fourth
car when I finally kick the bucket, so why not help out a friend? I know you're
good for it, you won't run off and join the circus or some silly thing.
This is no trouble, no trouble at all. Won't even make a dent in my portfolio.
So quit giving me the evil eye, and just accept it, go get that house and be
happy in it. All I ask is that you plant a fruit tree or something in my honor,
or for all I care, you can name the toilet after me. Wouldn't be the first time
for that, I'm sure. Now quit looking at me like that, once you're set
in your job, you can reapply for the mortgage without my name appearing anywhere
on the papers. But right now, I couldn't see that house getting out of your
reach just because of the silly fact that you haven't had a paying job in five
years. I have confidence in you, so does Dave, so does Chloe, so ... where is
Chloe, anyway? I haven't seen her all night."

Sara wasn't about to
be sidetracked with questions leading her away from the topic at hand. She cleared
her throat, intending on a monologue of her own. "Doris ..."

Sara's mistake was in
allowing Doris to refill her lungs. "Sara, just calm yourself. You're not getting
any younger. Next think you know, with that kind of attitude, you'll be clutching
your left arm, and the single men in this barn will be wrestling over who gets
to give you CPR. Mouth to mouth. I don't suppose Chloe would like to walk
in here and see you flat on your back getting liplocked by Paul Hoderman. On
the other hand, I'm thinking that it might be the first time he got that close
to a woman. Helen doesn't say anything, but I get a feeling about that
young man. Not that he's gay, but just totally hopeless. Don't you and
Chloe know anyone to hook him up with? Oh, wait, what about Audra?
She's not involved with anyone, is she? And they're old friends, you know,
her student teaching at the school way back when ..."

Sara's mind forgot about
the mortgage for a moment, because she had locked onto a possible revenge scenario.
"Hmm, there's an idea, Doris. Audra and Paul. I'm not good at playing
matchmaker ..."

Doris took a sip
from her cup, and raised her eyebrows, knowing she was the one that was quite
adept at playing matchmaker. That gave Sara another opening. "But Doris-"

"Again with that look.!
I know you probably think that look would scare the panties off Godzilla, but
it doesn't work with me. You've got the house, now shut up and enjoy it. I'm
glad to help, for however long. Not worried in the slightest. Just
be glad you have people who care about you, have faith in you. Why, if
Nelson hadn't stopped by the other night and wanted to talk to me about how
he could help you out, and him just heartsick, not knowing if he should go off
to college when Dave was having money problems about the course, and then
he mentioned that you were looking into buying Marcy's house and it didn't look
like that was going to happen, I had to settle the poor boy down, and ...

"Nelson? When?"

"Why ... let's
see, it had to be ... uh, Monday evening? This old head of mine doesn't
remember what I had for dinner last night, but yes, come to think about it,
it was Monday night. I think I was talking to you on the phone at the
time ..."

"Monday night?"
Sara's voice was barely audible. Nelson was at Doris', the night he came
home late with the Comet. He was at Doris', wondering if he should stay home
from college. Sara closed her eyes, and felt the beginnings of tears
behind them. Before either one of them could get any more words out, she
made a decision. She got out of her chair, leaned over Doris, and gave
her a crushing hug, and then even placed a soft kiss on the startled woman's
face. Her face broke into a shaky grin, and a tear escaped and rolled
down her cheek. "Thank you. I accept. I won't let you down." She
placed another kiss on Doris' cheek, sealing the promise.

Doris was struck dumb.
As Sara pulled away from her, still smiling, she cleared her throat, and thumped
her umbrella a few times on the floor in consternation of all this blatant emotionality
swirling around them. "Well." She commented weakly. "Well."

Sara winked at her,
patted her knee and the straightened up and looked around the barn. She
spied Nelson talking quietly with Jason and his dad, and she murmured softly
to Doris in apology. "There's something I need to do, I'll be back."

Doris just nodded, and
watched as Sara made a beeline for Nelson. Sara tapped the tall young man on
the shoulder, and he turned around, and before he knew it, Sara had picked him
up in strong arms, and twirled him around once, before lightly setting him down
again, giving him a huge hug. He was just getting his bearings when she kissed
him on the cheek, cuffed him on the arm, and sniffled her nose.

Dazed but grinning,
he managed to squeak out an adolescent sounding "What?"

Sara's throat was so
constricted by emotion, she could hardly speak. "Thanks. The house. Got it.
Doris told me. She's helping. You .. you did it. Thank you."

Before Nelson could
reply, his overwhelmed aunt squeezed his arm, and then choked out a "My turn."
She strode quickly across the barn's floor, and paused in front of the lavatory
door, flashing a smile to him, then to a still watching but beaming Doris, and
then entered, closing the door lightly behind her.

Chloe's nose was still
trying to decipher the multitude of odors that greeted her as soon as she had
opened up the Subaru wagon's hatch to haul the bulky broken suitcase into the
back. She found a rolled up Burger King bag under the passenger's side
seat, and by the mushy, decomposing feel of it, and the acrid, foul smell arising
from it, it may have been there for two weeks or more, and certainly had died
and come to life again, many times over, each time in an altogether different
biological state. The rain was roaring down around her, and she had only the
time to pull Dave's bulky XXL USC Trojan sweatshirt over her head for defense
against the pounding raindrops. She had parked on the open rooftop of
the parking garage, and the sweatshirt was completely soaked through by the
time she made the quick trip from the trunk to the drivers door. She sat
there in the car, staring at the rain sheeting down her windshield, and held
the BK bag away from her by two dainty fingertips, wondering what the hell to
do with it. She thought briefly about just tossing the bag outside her
car door, but if there was anything she couldn't abide, it was a litterbug,
so she gently put the disdainful bag on the floor of the passenger side, and
began to roll down her window in hopes of airing the car out a bit, while she
surveyed the area with her car headlights for a garbage can. The car mercifully
started on the first turn of the ignition, she coaxed the windshield wipers
onto full speed, and the rain started pelting in the half inch gap in the window.
She eased the car out of the space, and began her exit, one eye carefully watching
the status of stinkbomb on the floor, half expecting it to come alive in some
way, and possibly sprout legs and move about of its own volition.

She followed the directional
arrows down to the parking lot's exit, pulled up to the pay booth, and gave
the attendant her ticket. He smiled a bored greeting at her, mumbled the
amount, and while retrieving the money out of her satchel, she came up with
the perfect solution to her problem.

As she handed the man
her money, she also handed him the rotting BK bag, and with a sweet smile beaming
out from under the hood of the USC sweatshirt, she asked, oh so politely, "Um,
hey, could you throw this out for me?" Before the smarmy odor could hit
the man's nose, Chloe had her window rolled almost completely back up,
and was inching the old Subaru towards the gate that was lifting for her to
pass. She peered out into the gloomy, rain torn night, and began to smile.
Two hours from home. Surely the putrid stench should clear by then?
She put the car in neutral after she passed under the gate, dug around in her
satchel, and pulled out a CD, and popped it into the player. With the wind and
rain and thunder as extra percussion, she began to sing. "Raindrops on roses
and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, wild
geese that fly with the moon on their wings, these are a few of my favorite
things ..."

The man in the booth
got a whiff of the bag, grimaced, and since he had absolutely no compunctions
about being a litter bug, he tossed the bag out through the slide window behind
him and hurriedly slid it shut.

The power in the barn
had gone out hours before, leaving the partyers' festivities illuminated only
by lemony citronella candles and a few lanterns Dave had dug out from out of
the camping gear he had stowed in the upper rafters of the two story barn.
The excess guests had made their apologies, and said their hurried good-byes
just before they took a deep breath to make a mad dash out to their cars parked
outside. Only the closest of family members and friends stayed to tough it out,
and Stan had even made a winded trip out to his truck and back with a sly grin
on his face, an accordion case gripped in his hand. After much teasing and wisecracks
from the remaining assembled multitude, he lifted the straps over his shoulders,
and began softly playing warm, slow tunes as everyone settled into a circle
around the candlelight. It was a cozy and intimate setting, and soon everyone
was talking in low voices, and enjoying the pleasant camaraderie.

Sara sat down next to
Doris, hoping to let her incessant chatter help chase away the worries she was
experiencing about Chloe. It was after midnight, and Chloe had still not arrived,
and although the telephone was still working, no phone call had come.
Sara sighed, and tried to concentrate on what Doris was saying.

"If it's not one thing,
it's another, Sara. What a week this has been. I tell you, the school
administrators wait until the very last minute to let me know that the budget
for this activity and that activity has been cut, and then, yesterday, just
as I'm leaving the office, the personnel department calls me to tell me that
the mathematics teacher I interviewed and hired called and said she wasn't going
to be accepting the position after all! I had to scramble for another
two hours, just to set up interviews for next week, and whoever the poor schmuck
is that I find to fill the job will have less than a week to get prepared. I
mean, the nerve of that woman! I almost called her long distance to give her
an earful. but what good would it do me? Wasted air! I tell you,
those California people are flakes, pure and simple corn flakes. They
all smoke that whacky weed, and I swear it's that smog that makes them half
loopy ..."

Sara sat up straighter
in her chair, and interrupted the scowling principal. "Excuse me, Doris? What
math teacher?"

Doris smacked her umbrella
tip on the barn floor. "Oh, that .... I can't think of her name ... whatsername?
Let me think." Doris frowned. "Baker. Sandra Baker. She's the one that
put my girdle into such a twist. I should have known. Flakes. Every last
one of them."

Sara interrupted again.
"Sandy Baker's not coming to Stonecreek?" She leaned in closer, staring
into Doris' eyes with deadly and determined accuracy.

Doris shook her head.
"Nope. From what Judith in personnel said, and I quote, 'Her love life had a
surprising turnaround, and she's decided to stay put and see how it all turns
out."

"You got it. Probably
met some beach bum and decided to take up professional body surfing or something.
Young people these days have no idea of responsibility any more, believe me
... let me tell you-"

But Sara had already
tuned her out, her ears no longer were hearing Doris' voice, the soft lilting
sounds of the accordion, nor did she hear it when all of her friends and family
began singing, louder, then louder still. She got up from her chair, and moved
towards the far side of the barn, her head dropped in thought, her feet dragging
a disconsolate trail across the dusty floor.

"My gal's a corker,
she's a New Yorker, I buy her everything to keep her in style!... boom boom
boom, she's got a pair of hips just like two battleships ... she's the
only girl for me!"

The light in the barn
was so dim, the accordion and the singing so loud and boisterous - save the
one woman who had her mind wrapped around the worst possible news she could
ever fathom hearing - and everyone was so wrapped up in their celebrating that
no one saw the entrance of the soaked, panting and bedraggled form that entered
the barn and stopped there just inside door.